I Wish I Was A Lemon
by Tomo Potter
Summary: "But... I only hope that the whores aren't stealing our lemons..."  EXTREME CRACK.  SherlockxJohn and SherlockxMoriarty, I GUESS.  All I can do is apologise.


A/N: I would like to apologise to the universe.

If you have no idea what's going on, it'd be a good idea to do a youtube search for 'Weirdest Porn Intro Ever (Clean besides language)' first and get up to speed. Or maybe don't. It might be funnier if you have no idea what's actually going on.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the plot or the dialogue I just bent it all to my horrible horrible whims HEHE.

Dedication: Nayeli (bellatrix-is-a-star on tumblr) asked me to write her 'cumberporn or something' and this happened. I'm torn between being wracked with regrets and not being sorry at ALL.

**I Wish I Was A Lemon**

"Oh Sherlock."

"Yes, John?"

The sun was shining, a rare day of beauty strikingly different to London's usual gloom. Hard to even remember there was such a thing as crime, in the face of such beauty.

The sunlight glinted off the dimpled faces of the lemons growing plentifully on the tree in the backyard of 221B Baker Street, and Sherlock and John reclined languidly on a bench, John resting his back happily on Sherlock's chest, Sherlock's arms tight and reassuring around him.

"I'm so glad." John sighed contentedly. "I'm so glad that our lemon tree finally grew."

"Me too." Sherlock murmured happily in his ear.

"And sprouted fruitful, lemony lemons." John took such pride in their lemon tree, taking care to weed around and water it every day. It was like their child, and he was overjoyed to see it so healthy and strong. He couldn't wait to taste that lemony goodness.

"I know. Me too. I mean, imagine. We can make lemonade..." John hummed happily in agreement. It was as if Sherlock were reading his mind, a sensation he knew only too well. "Key lemon pie... Lemon merangue pie..."

"I think it's the most valuable property that we have." Although true, the statement felt bare to John. It was more than valuable property. The lemon tree meant everything to him. The mere possibilities of such a lemony lemon tree were near endless, and he shuddered with pleasure just thinking about it.

Unbeknownst to the happy couple, at this very moment, James Moriarty was clambering sneakily over their fence, dressed only in his stealthy hot pink fishnet leotard. All of his impossibly complicated schemes to send Sherlock off the deep end had failed, and he had resorted, in desperation, to simply hitting him where it hurt. Wobbling clumsily in the 7 inch heels, Jim made his way sneakily over to the base of the treasured tree. He was going to steal Sherlock's lemons.

"I do agree." Sherlock spoke on, blind to the horrifying desecration of precious property about to occur mere meters from him. "I think we should go to the bank and get a loan. Actually, I think we should just get lemon tree insurance."

"I think you're right." John said in a low voice, the buzz of his rich tones sending a shiver through Sherlock's pleasantly warm, sun-kissed chest.

"And then get a loan." It was difficult for Sherlock to hold on to his train of thought, happy as he was, with John in his arms and the sun on his skin and his prized lemons by his side. "And use the lemon tree as collateral, because it is now insured. I truly do love our lemon tree."

"Just imagine, a life full of lemon trees." John sighed happily, leaning his head back gently on Sherlock's chest, mind filled with wonderous visions.

"I know." Sherlock smiled, leaning down to place a tender kiss on John's temple. "And all our beautiful lemons..."

"Endless possibilities." John sighed.

"Endless possibilities." Sherlock agreed, now too lost in a happy daydream. "They're so beautiful."

Both men were sadly blind to the heinous act of vandalism taking place beside them. Jim was hurriedly and carelessly tugging lemons from the tree, tucking them inside his fishnet stealth leotard for safety. This would certainly hit Sherlock where it really heart. Burning the heart out of him had been the wrong approach entirely - squeezing it out certainly seemed more appropriate.

"I wish I WAS a lemon!" John moaned longingly, pressing back against Sherlock's chest desperately, body filling with need at the thought of his citric idol.

"You wish you were a lemon?" Sherlock chuckled lovingly, tightening his embrace. "If you were a lemon, I would put you on my shelf and cherish you, like I cherish all our lemons."

"That's so beautiful." John sighed, looking up into Sherlock's eyes lovingly.

"I try." Sherlock half-smiled.

"But... I only hope that the whores aren't stealing our lemons..." John continued, worriedly, and the air instantly filled with tension. Jim froze for a moment, worried that the jig was up, but neither of the lovers spared a glance in his direction. Time to hurry, then...

"You know, those naughty whores always steal lemons..." John continued, and a frown furrowed Sherlock's brow. The horrid thought hadn't even occurred to him, and he didn't know how he felt about it.

"We do have a couple lemon whores in this... in this community, yes." Sherlock said, thinking worriedly about Mrs. Turner next door's married ones... what if they were secretly lemon whores? Had his background checks been thorough enough?

"Those damn, lemon-stealing whores!" John cried, now filled with rage rather than the passion from moments ago.

"I hate them." Sherlock agreed. "But noone will take our prized lemons from us."

"Hey, has it been about ten seconds since we looked at our lemon tree?" John asked worriedly, clearly filled with concern for the tree that had been like a child to him.

"It has been about ten seconds since we looked at our lemon tree." Sherlock agreed, having no actual access to a clock, and not being concerned enough with checking John's facts to go inside and find one.

"Gosh." John said, and as one they turned to look at their tree, bodies tensing with horror as they gazed upon the sight of a fluroescent Moriarty, hurriedly filling his fishnet leotard with their precious, precious lemons.

"Hey, what the FUCK?" Sherlock cried angrily, as they both lunged from their seats, running over to accost Moriarty before he could get away.

"It's a whore!" John cried as he ran, staggering slightly in his haste.

"It's a whore, stealing our lemons!" Sherlock agreed, never missing an opportunity to show John the extent of his deductive powers.

"Here!" Sherlock cried, leaping upon Moriarty and pulling the lemons urgently from his leotard, thrusting them at John for safekeeping.

"Sherlock, get the lemons back!" Sherlock pleaded desperately, trying not to weep for his lost love. So many lemons, torn from the branch before their time. Tragic.

"You can't have these! These lemons are mine!" Sherlock said angrily. Despite clearly being flustered from his brilliant capture, Moriarty pulled himself together to argue back, struggling to hold onto the lemons Sherlock was tearing from the inside of his leotard, his only protection.

"Hey!" Jim said, as innocently as he could muster. "These are my lemons!"

"These are OUR LEMONS." John said, body filled with rage, arms filled with lemons.

"No they're not!" Sherlock protested simultaneously. "We saw you taking them!"

"They're the fruit of our love!" John wept.

"They're mine!" Moriarty insisted, seemingly somehow incapable of coming up with a better defense.

"No they're NOT!" Sherlock insisted.

"Sherlock, I'm going to put these in a safeguard, and you teach him a lesson about lemon-stealing." John said angrily, and hurried off, arms full of precious lemons, desperate to return his babies to somewhere they would be free from Moriarty's despicable schemes.

As John ran, Sherlock grabbed Moriarty by the jaw, pulling the barely-clad consulting criminal to stumble forwards on his nonsensical heels, their faces nearly touching, bearing identical expressions of rage.

"We'll start." Sherlock said grimly. "With the riding crop."


End file.
